


Hope High And As Open As A Pasture

by Wolfermann



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Comfort Sex, Domestic Fluff, Edward Little is a horse girl, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Historical References, Irving is smitten, Little is trying his best, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfermann/pseuds/Wolfermann
Summary: Irving and Little find comfort in planning for the future after both confess to having rural pasts.Bingo Prompt: Gentle sex
Relationships: Lt John Irving/Lt Edward Little
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54
Collections: The Terror Bingo (2019)





	Hope High And As Open As A Pasture

**Author's Note:**

> Had an idea last night that haunted me so after two months of not posting anything or writing I finally did it. Bone apple tea.

_My boy tends to his horses, in pastures as green as my eyes, he tells me._

John lays awkwardly in the small bunk, legs dangling off the edge as he props his head in his superior’s lap. Edward sits up to smoke from a worn clay pipe and stroke his lovers soft brown hair while they both listen to the silence of the ship. Hardly anyone is on Terror anymore as she’s being strangled at the waist by the ice, forced up into the sky and listed to port, making her a maze to traverse on the inside and out. It was them, the ice threatening to break in, and the rats scurrying between decks. In the later hours, that’s when John needed it the most. Needed to fill his emptied stomach with something besides dread and tinned meat.

“Tell me… something new… Please.” Irving begins, almost forgetting to add the please at the end. His mother in her grave would be embarrassed if had let his manners slip while at sea.

_My boy tends to his flock, a sea of white and black and yet he calls each of his sheep by name_.

“Mmm I’d like a cat this time. I’ve always liked cats.” Edward gravels as he tries to be so quiet as not to wake the Captain next door. His voice, his darlings voice is more beautiful than any chorus of any song he has ever heard. John looks up at him, shifting to gaze with pure adoration at Little.

This was their game, one they started during their first winter stranded. On Christmas night of 1846, John begged to be let into Edward’s chambers, nervousness eating away at him as the man answered. The third Lieutenant waited until he was inside, the door closed, and they were alone as he offered his superior a gift. He kissed him, grabbing onto the lapels of his great coat and bringing Little’s warm lips to his own. Despite Edwards flirtations, his touches on his thigh at dinners, John had a hard time believing the man wanted this, craved the intimacy as much as he had. The older man had a moment of surprise before pinning Irving to the nearest available surface.

They made love for the first time that night and while lying in one another’s arms, Edward told him of his farm. In a previous life, one before he set sail, he cared for horses. This piece of information tickled John to the bone, to imagine Edward as a farmer. It was then he confessed about his past life, the one he tried to forget, in Australia. His failed attempt at a sheep ranch, the place that nearly took his life and all of his finances. It was then between lazy post coital kisses, that one of them mentioned the idea. A farmstead of their own making. The one they would have together at the end of this painful journey. Each meeting they had, they added one more piece to their vision, another object to add to John’s daydreams.

“One for the barn, keep the rats and mice away. And moles. I had a poor foal who broke their leg that way. A hole dug by a pesky mole and wrong footing, threw my sister off completely but she was fine. Only a scratch. The poor foal had to be put down.” Edward continued, his calloused fingers massaging the younger man’s scalp as he spoke. John closed his eyes, picturing the world they had built together with the great barn they would raise together. Filled with horses for his Edward and space to pen their flock during the winter. There sits a cat, wetly licking its paws while sitting on a bale of hay.

“She’s a calico, only mean to the pests that wander her way. She begs to be let in at night, but we shan’t let her in.” John sighs, a smile dancing on his lips. His lover’s fingers continue to rub in soft circles.

“What shall we name her then?” Little posits, removing his hand with the younger man’s hair to snuff out his pipe. It leaves the air around them heavy with tobacco, perhaps as a way to disguise the musk of their intimacy. John almost protests but he uses it as an opportunity to sit up, resting his weary head on Edward’s shoulder.

“I’ve never been good at names. Perhaps Patches? She’s made of them.” This earns him a hearty chuckle and a scratchy kiss to his cheek. Little’s sideburns were growing wildly as the man didn’t seem to care about his appearance, as if their Captain kept them up to code. Crozier hid from the world, as they all wished to do, leaving such a heavy burden on Edward’s shoulders. John and George’s as well but the first lieutenant seemed to suffer the most out of all. He looked older and more exhausted each time they met, heavy, dark bags under chocolate brown eyes. If anything, John wanted to ease his burden. Anyway he could manage.

“Patches it is then.” The older man smiled, making Irving’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

_My boy raises horses, breeds them in fact. He has them for show or for work. It’s good money but we mourn each time we must sell one of our team._

Edward enters him with all the care in the world. John gasps, stretched and trembling as he hooks his legs around his lover’s waist. His hands tremble as he tries to ground himself. Little waited, with the patience of a saint for him to adjust, pressing soft kisses in a line from his throat to his traitorous lips. No one could know of what they did in the dark hours of the night.

Little eased his way in, finding home buried deeply inside the younger man. John felt impossibly full, agonizingly hard with his cock pressed against and leaking on his belly. His lover, oh his wonderful Edward removed Irving’s hands from his back, lacing their fingers together as he placed them back on the bunk below them.

“Please…” He mouthed against his lips, John’s olive eyes welling with tears of frustration, lust, and love.

_My boy tends to his flock, sheering them each season and selling their wool on the market. He keeps a little, learning to process it and knits a bit at a time. He never tells me what he’s making but I know it’s for me…_

They go at a slow pace, wrapped in one another. John wouldn’t prefer it any other way. He kisses along his lover’s face, taking note of every inch of it, every blemish, every freckle on his pale skin. Edward smells of tobacco and earthy cologne, he must have dabbed some on before John arrived at his cabin.

Little hits the spot inside him, the one that makes the world light up like a bonfire on a summers night. John spills quickly all over himself in a silent cry. He clenches tightly against the cock inside him, bringing Edward to the edge with him. The older man mouthed against his lips, his name over and over again as he’s soon filled with his hot spend. He wished they could stay like this forever. Already retreat to their home, the one they built together, with their farm somewhere safe, somewhere warm.

_My boy raises horses, in a pasture so green. It’s so warm there that I forget about the bleak and cold tundra. He loves me and I would do anything for him._


End file.
